


Spine Against Spine

by fizzysplosion



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Age Difference, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, M/M, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-27
Updated: 2011-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 02:39:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzysplosion/pseuds/fizzysplosion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt on the Kink Meme:</p><p>"Carver became a Templar, but his dad was a mage. Some daddy!issues never go away.</p><p>Anders is sure as hell is up for a 19 year-old Templar brat calling him "Daddy." Justice thinks it's - uh, poetic justice"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spine Against Spine

**Spine Against Spine**

There was something about the way Carver's gaze drifted to the shelf full of lyrium potions and jittered across each one. They sat on a dilapidated shelf in the back room in mismatched bottles, some of them beginning to separate with age in a way that made them look like those curios they sold in seaside towns with layers of differently coloured sand. Anders kept them in the back room out of sight for this very reason. Templars liked lyrium, therefore lyrium was almost as valuable as currency and petty thievery was one of the few endeavours the Darktown residents could really get into.

Carver was sitting on the most ramshackle bed in the whole building. The one that Anders slept on. The stupid brat had come in full Templar regalia, helmet included, and given him the fright of his life when he'd marched into the clinic.

"What in Andraste's drawers are you doing here, Carver?" Anders said.

"What does anyone come here for?" Carver said. His eyes flicked back to the lyrium shelf. There was sweat on his brow.

"Healing? You're telling me that you couldn't find a single healer in the whole of the Gallows?"

Carver shook his head. Again, his eyes darted to the lyrium and back. "They can't know I'm injured."

"And why is that?"

"I don't have to tell you. You're a healer, right? So do your job and heal."

"You're a Templar. It's your job to stop apostates using magic in the city not encourage- Will you stop eyeing up my lyrium?"

"What? I'm not."

Anders groaned as Carver's eyes were pulled back to it even as he protested. "Carver, please tell me you weren't stupid enough to let them hook you on lyrium."

"I'm not. I only had it once! It's just really... bright..."

Anders groaned again. "Carver. Carver? Carver, look at me."

Carver snapped his head away from the sight of the softly glowing lyrium. "What?"

"Think of all the Templars in the Gallows that you don't want to be alone with. Picture them very clearly. Lyrium will addle your brain but it'll leave your body exactly as it is- No, don't look at the lyrium. Look at me. Carver. I can see you looking at the lyrium. Look at me. Think of those Templars. Think of what they'd do to your body if your mind was no longer ruling it."

"I only had one," Carver protested but his eyes were sliding back even as he said it.

"It always starts with one. Let's get you away from it for now."

Carver rose. The hinges of his armour squeaked with him.

"Take off what you can of that ridiculous armour first," Anders said. "I don't want the Templars that aren't Hawke's baby brother getting ideas. Besides, you'll scare the other patients."

Carver stripped the upper part of his armour and some of the more decorative parts of the lower half, although he visibly struggled to drag his eyes away from the lyrium long enough to get even that done. Anders had to stop his own eyes drifting. Carver was built like a, well, like a Hawke. Which he was. The Templar training had added even more definition to his already impressive musculature, although there was a band of bruising around his left, upper arm. Carver frowned at him.

"Other patients?" he said.

"Yes, other- Maker's balls, stop looking at the damn lyrium!"

"You can't treat me in front of other patients! It'll get back to them."

Anders heaved out one of his more dramatic sighs. "Fine. I'll clear out the clinic just for you because obviously you're a Templar, you're a man of import now, what does it matter if a few Darktown residents die because someone doesn't want the Knight Commander to know about his scuffles?"

Carver hadn't heard any of that. He'd become distracted by the lyrium again. Anders ground his teeth and shoved Carver out into the main room of the clinic.

"Right, you lot," Anders said, to the three urchins who had wandered into his clinic. "Go and play somewhere else for a minute. This man needs to be treated in private."

They stared at Carver, as one. Carver, who was at least a head taller than even Hawke, and showing off muscles the likes of which these children would never be lucky enough to see again. For once in the history of his dealings with Darktown's insolent and plentiful progeny, they decided not to make trouble and scampered out. Anders closed the doors behind them, locked them and dragged the chains he'd purchased for extra security across both doors.

"You're being awfully nice about this," Carver said, suspiciously.

"Nicer than a mage should be to a Templar. Let's see this oh-so-secret injury then."

Carver turned his head this way and that. He scanned the room as if afraid a group of raiders were about to jump out from under the beds. "I don't want to show you."

"That's going to make this very difficult."

Carver glared at him. Anders glared right back. Carver's teenage stinkeye was no match for the extra clout Justice gave him. Carver started to wilt under his gaze. He dropped down onto one of the unprepared beds so suddenly and heavily that its frame shrieked. He hopped back up deftly, then sat very, very carefully on the one beside it. He pulled off the remainder of his armour with frequent furtive looks around him until he was just in a pair of thin hose. Anders could see the patch of cloggy blood immediately. It seemed to be localised around his groin.

"You're going to have to show me the wounds, Carver," Anders said.

"Heal it through my clothes."

"I can't. I need to see how bad it is."

"What do you mean you can't? You're always showing off about how you're a mage. Do it with magic."

"Maker, give me strength. No. That's not how magic works. Be a big boy and show me where it hurts so I can heal you and get you out of my clinic."

Carver crossed his arms and shook his head. His lower lip even jutted out. "No."

"I've seen it all before, Carver."

"I don't know what my brother's shown you but you definitely haven't seen mine."

Anders rolled his eyes. "Please show me your booboo Carver. If you're brave and don't cry I might even give you a lollipop."

"Shut up."

"Carver, if you don't show me that wound right now I'll give you such a smack-"

"Fine. I'm doing it. Just shut up," Carver swung his legs up onto the bed and lay down. He twitched one side of his hose slightly lower than the other.

Anders leaned over to get a good look at it. Carver had padded the wound with a few rags but they'd done little to staunch it. Anders peeled them away. The pungent smell of infection almost knocked him back. He forced himself not to retch as he looked more closely at it. The gash began at Carver's hipbone and traveled down to where his trousers were still covering most of his pelvis. Anders yanked them down to get an idea of the full extent of the damage. He shushed Carver's protests as he concentrated on gathering enough healing magic in his palms to take care of it. He had questions, like how Carver had received such a wound in the first place and why he had left it until it got this bad? But they could all wait until it was sorted. Anders placed one palm over another on the centre of the wound, where it was deepest. He had to use delicate amounts of force magic to drain the worst of the infection out of it and then send healing magic through it to knit the scar back together. He set the ichor that remained in his palm alight so it flared for a moment like a lit strand of hair and disappeared, leaving no trace of the infection behind.

"There's more," Carver said.

He turned over with his trousers still yanked down to his thighs. Anders scowled at what he saw. There was barely any skin showing through the bruising on Carvers lower back and buttocks.

"What the hell's been going on, Carver?" Anders said.

"I don't have to tell you."

"And I don't have to heal it."

"Look, just get this over with. It's nothing."

"Nothing's left a lot of bruises on your arse, Carver."

"It's nothing I can't handle. Just heal it."

"This isn't the Gallows. You can't just give me orders and expect me to obey."

"Likewise. It's none of your business anyway."

"Yes it is my business. You're Hawke's brother and Hawke is my friend."

"It's not a big deal."

"Do you think Hawke would feel the same?"

"Don't bring Garrett into this! He's too busy being a hero by day and listening to you all whine by night. I'm sure he doesn't need to make time to save anyone else. How about since I haven't told Meredith about you, you show me some discretion?"

Anders sighed. "I won't tell Hawke but I'd still like to know what happened here. Was it the Templars? Did they do something to you? Did they make you do something you didn't want to do?"

"Watch what you're asking! _I'm_ a Templar, remember?"

"Carver, there's a bruise on your upper arm that looks like someone gripped you tight there and bruises on your lower back that make me think someone put a lot of pressure there to keep you in place, by kneeling on it perhaps? I don't even know what to think about the stab wound on your groin."

"This might be hard for you to imagine since you think the sun shines out of his arse but my brother's pissed off a lot of people. Sometimes people get the wrong Hawke."

"What kind of people?"

"Mercenaries, Templars, mages, you know, the usual."

"The mercenaries explain the stab wound but not the bruising."

"Will you just drop it?"

"No and I won't heal it either until you tell me where you got it."

Carver turned his head to give Anders a hateful little look, then turned it back to the mattress. "Ser Karras," he said. "You're always going on about mages this, mages that but it's not exactly sunshine and roses in the Gallows for the low-ranking Templars either. Especially not if they speak up when someone's overstepping their bounds."

"Ser Karras?" Anders looked grimly over the bruising. Yes, he'd heard that name before. "What did he do?"

"He was trying to- He attacked one of the mages. Alain. The one Hawke sent back to the Circle. I stopped him."

"That was very brave of you."

"'So very pleased you think so. Karras wants everyone to think that he's doing to me what he was trying to do to Alain, so he's been making sure I get bruised by tripping me up, accidentally-on-purpose hitting me in the back with things and making sure I end up sparring with him when I'm training. That's why I can't show anyone the bruises."

"But the ones on your arm... Did he do something to you?"

"Of course he didn't! I'm not a meek little mage the way he likes. He just grabbed me and threatened me a bit. Now will you heal me?"

Anders turned his attention back to the bruises. Well, almost all of his attention. As he touched his fingertips to the bruises at the base of Carver's back he couldn't help but notice the, uh, lower parts of Carver. And once it had taken hold of him it was hard to let go of the idea that he was basically fondling a nineteen-year-old man's buttocks. He was very glad Carver was lying on his front. It wouldn't do to be caught out blushing by a man almost two decades your junior. Especially when you'd been trying very hard to worm your way into his elder brother's heart, or at least his pants. He tried to ignore it while he got on with the healing but his damned willful fingers drove into the muscle a little harder than he'd intended. Carver's buttocks twitched in response, causing a shift in those _powerful_ , _young_ thighs that made the muscles bounce under his fingertips.

Anders dithered over the bruises. He dragged his fingers from where they began, jaundice yellow at the edges, right through the centre where they were at their darkest, an angry purple, and back to the other edge where they faded again into unblemished skin. Which may or may not have also taken him sweeping right across Carver's firm little arse. Justice was surprisingly blaisé about the whole thing. Or, more likely, he just didn't understand. Anders pressed down into the worst of the bruising again just to feel the resistance of _all that muscle_ as it sprang back up.

Carver hissed. "You're supposed to be healing back there, not making things worse."

"Now, now, patience is a virtue," Anders managed. "Just... Finding the best spot to work from."

Justice did kick up a stink at that. He knew when Anders was lying and he didn't like it. Anders settled him down inside his head while Carver started grumbling again outside of it.

"Right, right. Everyone relax."

Anders let some of his healing magic escape. The bruises faded until they were barely visible. Carver hoisted his trousers back up before the glow had even faded from his fingers.

"In a hurry?" Anders asked.

"Yes. I have things to do, you know."

"Mages to kill? Apostates to entrap?"

"Listen, you," Carver said, jabbing a finger at Anders' chest. "I don't have to defend my decisions to some mage hobo who doesn't even a brain he can call his own."

"And I didn't have to heal a Templar brat who abandons his family at the first chance he gets."

"I've never abandoned my family!"

"Your father was a mage. Your sister was a mage. Your brother is a mage. You became an arm of the organisation that imprisons anyone born like them. That sounds like abandonment to me."

"I've heard it all before. I don't need to hear it from you."

"Yet you're still not listening to it."

"I'm a grown man now. You don't get to have any say over what I do."

"You could at least apologise to your brother."

"Oh, of course. It's always about Garrett. 'Must not hurt Garrett's feelings. 'Must not play too rough with Garrett. 'Must not tell on Garrett when he uses magic on me because someone might hear."

"Andraste's tits, Carver. In a few years time you're going to remember this conversation and want to come back to kick your younger self up the arse. This isn't about Garrett. It's about you being a good brother."

"Just shut up, dad. It's always about Garrett with you!"

Anders raised his eyebrows. "Dad?"

Carver turned bright red. "What? I didn't say that. Did I? What?"

"Yes, you did. You called me dad. Oh Maker, this explains so much. No wonder Hawke doesn't want anything to do with me."

"I doubt that's the only reason."

Anders sighed. It was a shame he wasn't Carver's father, really. He could do with a good backhand now and then. "Come here, you still need the bruises on your arm taken care of. If there's anything the other Templars are going to see, it's that."

Carver would be aggrieved to know that the expression on his face was the double of Ser Pouncealot's whenever Anders hid his mousetoy with his hand. Carver made a dramatic gesture of rolling his eyes and trudging over to Anders. Anders inspected those bruises as well. Ser Karras had gripped hard enough to leave an impression of every one of his fingers.

"It's not actually," Carver said.

"Not what?"

"Not the thing they're most likely to see. All of the new recruits share a bathing area." Carver upturned his lip. "Karras likes to check on it. To 'make sure there's no trouble.'"

Anders dabbed at Carver's arm absently for a few minutes. "You share a bath with the other boys?"

"Boys? Some of the recruits are even older than you. Are you going to heal it then? Or are you just going to paw at it?"

Anders forced himself to focus on the arm. He looked from that to Carver's still-blushing face and noticed a bruise on his temple, just peeking out from the hairline. Anders released Carver's arm and touched his fingers to it. "Are you sure nothing's going on, Carver?"

Carver blinked at him. The gesture had brought Anders' palm up to cup his cheek. Carver smacked it away.

"Why are you so bloody eager to believe something's going on?" he said.

"Eager? Hardly. As strange as it may seem, I don't want you to get hurt. Even if you do insist on being a complete and total tit sometimes. Victims of that kind of abuse, especially men, tend to use bravado to protect themselves. You know Hawke would storm The Gallows itself if anything happened to you."

"Nothing's happened. No bravado. I really can look after myself."

"Just be careful, Carver."

Carver made a show of rolling his eyes. "Yes, daddy. I'll try my very bestest."

"If you're going to be like that, maybe I should give you a spanking."

Carver blushed. Anders wondered if he was just imagining it but no, that was definitely a blush. A blush that spread from his cheeks all the way down to his bare chest and led Anders' eyes down past his waistband to- Carver covered his groin with his hands and turned his back on Anders.

"Trust you to take things too far!" Carver snapped.

"I haven't taken anything anywhere! I've been trying not to."

Carver wheeled back around and gave Anders a two-handed shove that was probably meant to be gentle but actually sent him stumbling back a couple of paces before he regained his footing.

"You've been trying not to?" he yelled. "I knew I shouldn't undress in front of you. Freak."

Anders stormed back toward Carver and drew himself up to his full height (still a head shorter than Carver, even with his shoulders hunched). Not that Carver's absurd height was going to faze him. Justice crackled for a few worrying seconds, Anders could see the reflection of glow on Carver's skin and in Carver's widened eyes. _Freak._ Justice rallied against the insult. Against the reductive nature of it. Anders willed him back with reason. Carver didn't know about what both of them had sacrificed. Carver was an ally. _Carver will soon be punished._ Yes, that too.

The dappled blue reflections disappeared but left Carver wide-eyed still and reluctant to touch him in their wake.

"Listen, little boy," Anders said. "It's time someone taught you a lesson."

"Little boy?"

"Exactly," Anders said. He swept past Carver and sat down on the bed. "Now be a good little boy and bend over daddy's lap."

Carver blushed again but he narrowed his eyes. "You're twisted."

"And yet you're not leaving," Anders patted his lap.

"You'd better not do anything weird to me. I know how to handle mages, you know."

"I hope so."

Carver approached cautiously, as if afraid Anders was suddenly going to hurl a fireball at him. He lowered himself onto Anders' lap with stiff, unnatural movements and glared at him from his perch on it. Maker, he was heavy. All that muscle was really dense.

"I thought I told you to bend over my lap, Carver, not sit on it."

"You should be thankful you're even getting this. I don't have to do what you say."

Anders simply gave Carver a knowing smile and a shake of his head. He curled his fingers in the back of Carver's waistband and dipped his fingertips into the crevice between Carver's buttocks. Carver tensed visibly and Anders dragged his fingers back up along Carver's spine and rubbed between his shoulder blades. He marveled again at how broad Carver's back was, the span of it twitched under his palm as Carver refused to relax into the touches. He turned his head to give Anders a petulant look.

"What?" Anders said.

"Is that it? You're just going to touch my back?"

Anders chuckled. "While you're acting like a deer that's about to bolt I am."

"Get naked."

Anders smiled. "That's an incredibly inappropriate order for someone to give his father."

"Now. Before I rip that stupid coat off you."

"Kids these days, no manners."

Carver twisted his upper body and shoved Anders down on the bed. His weight was like a solid wall of force magic, pinioning him to the mattress which squeaked as a few of the older springs popped and gave. Carver pulled and tugged at the fastenings of Anders' coat. He snapped them when he ran out of patience and pulled Anders' coat open. Anders gasped at the feel of his bare skin on Carver's. It was a sensation he hadn't felt in far too long and sent a thrill through him as if he were feeling it for the first time. Anders shoved the coat from his arms. The pauldrons dropped off, sprawled over the mattress and the coat itself lay trapped underneath his body. Carver shifted his weight on top of him, dragging skin over skin, muscle over muscle. He grabbed what he could reach of Anders' trousers and tore them off as if they were as insubstantial as greasepaper. The seams ruptured under his fingers and left them flapping loose around Anders' thighs. Anders toed off his boots, so they thudded loudly on the floor.

Carver lifted his upper body so that he sat straddling Anders. He peeled away the last remnants of Anders' trousers in strings and gazed down at his body with a newer, deeper flush on his face. He placed his huge hand on Anders' abdomen and stroked up his chest. Carver's callused hands were surprisingly gentle and paid particular attention to where they caught downy, dark blonde hairs. They started in Anders' happy trail, up along his belly, between his pectoral muscles and up to brush his knuckles along the scruff at Anders' chin. Anders was about ready to curl his toes and purr from that alone.

"I thought you'd be less good-looking than this," Carver said. "I thought you'd be malnourished but you've actually got quite a nice body."

"What an insolent way to speak to your father. Daddy gets as much exercise as anyone else in our little group, Carver."

"Will you stop it with that?" Carver said, although the flush on his face deepened and his erection became far more prominently outlined in his hose. "You're just muscly for a mage, is all. From what I've seen."

"From what you've seen? 'Been looking, have you?"

"No! I just- Well, sometimes- I mean-"

Anders took advantage of Carver's distraction. He'd never have been able to heave Carver off him with brute strength alone but a shock of electricity to paralyze him briefly and a quick shove of force magic allowed him to drape Carver over his lap. Carver was left unable to do little more than twitch. Anders rolled Carver's hose down inch by inch, as leisurely as he could manage when that biteable little arse was being presented to him in such an appealing way. When it was finally revealed, Anders let the hose slide down Carvers' thighs to pool around his knees.

"Sounds like you've been up to some very naughty things, Carver, and I can't very well let naughtiness go unpunished."

Carver threw off the paralysis just as Anders' palm smacked down on the fullest part of his left buttock. Carver made a noise of pure indignity and wriggled on Anders' lap in a most enticing way. Anders brought his hand down again, to leave a faint red palm print on Carver's skin. Carver gasped. He wriggled again but this time in such a way that his erection slid over Anders' knees. His hair had flopped over the upper part of his face. Anders could only see Carver's mouth. It parted as Anders' hand came down again softly. When Anders' hand left it, touch tapering away until he'd drawn his arm all the way back Carver pursed his lips, drawing them into a thin line. Anders made the next smack harder. So hard that another red hand print overlaid the first. Carver bit down on his lower lip and made a strangled noise. He hissed between his teeth as Anders stroked his fingers over the hand print. Anders took a moment to admire the sight of a mostly-naked nineteen year-old totally disheveled across his lap as he smoothed his hand up and down the now ravaged cheek. Carver's back was now textured with some interesting scars here and there, making the skin fold where every muscle was tensed for the next strike. Anders glanced his palms over both of Carver's buttocks, the untouched right and the still mostly-red left, dappled here and there with partly-healed bruises.

"You have a criminally nice arse, Carver," Anders said. "I wonder why I never noticed before."

"Probably because you were too busy making doe eyes at my brother."

Anders brought his hand down across Carver's right buttock with all of his strength. The clap of skin against skin resounded through the room. What he hadn't fully healed off the bruises would give an extra sting after the impact. Carver half-yelped, half-moaned. Anders' hand left a darker impression this time, which grew darker as Anders gave another few smacks in rapid succession just as hard as the first. Carver pillowed his head in his hands and lifted his hips up to meet the next smack. Anders loaded his fingers with the merest amount of electricity so that when his hand landed static-like charges danced over the rising welt. Carver shuddered as if he really were being shocked. He murmured something into the pillow of his arms. Anders raked his nails down the welt so that Carver gasped and bucked up again.

"Is there something you want to say to me?" Anders asked.

Carver tossed his head from side to side.

"There's something you need to say to me though," Anders said. "Whether you want to or not."

"Sorry."

"Sorry what?"

"I don't- Ahhh."

Anders brought his hand down again, as hard as he could manage. "Sorry who?"

"Sorry, daddy. Sorry."

Anders grinned and smoothed his hand ever-so-softly over the welt with a touch of healing magic that would stop the carpet-burn sensation of it but leave enough of the sting that Carver would feel it for the rest of the night. "Good boy. Now be an even better boy for daddy and lie on your front."

Carver almost tripped over the trousers still tangled around his knees in his haste to climb onto the bed. He kicked them off with an angry grunt and clambered, naked, onto the bed. Anders had never been more glad for his Grey Warden endurance as he watched. Maker, Carver had a gorgeous body. All that height and ink black hair. All those muscles rolling over each over with every motion he made. Anders had to give his cock a squeeze as Carver drew himself up onto his knees to watch him, still only half-obeying the order as he had when Anders had told him to get over his lap.

"Are you coming or what?" Carver said.

"Is that any way to talk to your elders and betters?"

"My elders and betters best be coming over here now before they get their older and better faces punched in."

Anders shook his head. "So impudent. Maybe I should just go to the Rose."

Carver narrowed his eyes. "Please."

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. I thought you were begging me to come over to you but we all know Carver Hawke is far too proud."

"Come on, Anders. I need- I want-"

Anders climbed onto the bed behind him. He braced on arm over Carver's chest and pressed flush against him, so his erection slid between Carver's buttocks and up his back. He leaned into Carver's neck and kissed the skin there. As Carver craned into the touch, he poked out the tip of his tongue to taste it and slid it up to behind the hollow of Carver's ear. He nipped the lobe between his teeth and spoke softly into the shell of it. "Do you want daddy to fuck you now, Carver?"

Carver grabbed Anders' free hand and brought it down to his cock. He gave a snarl of frustration as Anders' fingers refused to close around it. Anders snatched his hand away and rested it against the flat planes of Carver's belly.

"Ah-ah," he said, so that every word made his lips brush Carver's ear. "The only way you're getting off is with my cock inside you."

Carver gave a groan that Anders felt rumble through his fingers. His stomach muscles tautened underneath them. Anders rubbed his cock between Carver's buttocks at the sound and feel of it, smearing precome along his back. He slid his hands up Carver's body, dipping his fingers into where the hard lines of muscle invited him to until they both met at the back of Carver's neck.

"Flat on your front now," Anders said, giving his neck an insistent push.

Carver shifted forward. Anders had to hold back a moan at the loss of Carver's touch, although the view more than made up for it when Carver bent forward onto all fours. He spread in his legs in an endearingly graceless gesture that made the bed creak and threaten to capsize under his weight. Anders fingered the knot at the base of Carver's spine as he admired him.

"Have you ever done this before, Carver?" Anders asked.

"That's a hell of a question to ask now," Carver said. "No, as it happens. Not this way. But it's not like you're a Qunari or anything. I'm sure I can take it."

Anders hopped off the bed.

"Where the hell are you going?"

"Qunari or not, you don't want to be fucked dry by me."

Carver turned his head to glare at him but he kept the same spread-eagled position on the bed. Anders snatched the first potion he could from the nearest shelf. Elfroot. That would have to do. He climbed back onto the bed and tried not to spill it everywhere in his eagerness to get the stopper out. He poured a little too much into his hands and placed the bottle on the floor without looking. He heard it roll across the floor and decided he didn't much care where it had ended up. He warmed the potion between his palms and then drizzled the excess between Carver's buttocks. Carver made a small 'hmph' noise at the feel of it.

"You said you haven't tried it this way," Anders said, conversationally.

"Yes? What about it?"

"Does that mean you've done it the other way? What have you been getting up to with the other little boys?"

The flush appeared again, over Carver's back. "Why don't you shut up for a few minutes and get on with it?"

"How could I possibly deny my favourite son?"

"Why don't you-"

Anders crooked two of his fingers and slid them inside Carver. Carver let out a shuddering moan at the feel of it and pushed back, seating himself all the way to Anders' knuckle. Anders placed his free hand on the small of his back to steady him. Despite the greasy potion, Carver was tight. Every one of his muscles seemed to tense for a moment, creating pressure all around Anders' fingers and then relax, leaving just the regular virgin tightness.

"Maker," Anders muttered, driving his fingers out and back into Carver. "You're going to feel amazing."

Carver spread his legs wider and gripped the sheets in his fists. "Fucking do it then."

Maker knew, it was tempting to just grab Carver's hips and thrust right into him with no preamble but it as a method it did have the downside of not driving Carver completely insane. Anders pulled his fingers all the way out of Carver again and teased his entrance with just the tip of his index finger. "You know what you have to do."

Carver made a seething noise between his teeth. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me."

"Please fuck me who?"

"Daddy. Please fuck me, daddy."

Anders removed even the finger circling Carver's entrance. "Oh, I don't know," he said. "I wouldn't want you to grow up spoiled."

Carver surged up so suddenly that Anders nearly flew backwards off the bed and probably would have, if Carver hadn't pushed him down onto his back. Carver placed his hands on Anders' shoulders, pinning his upper body down as surely as a couple of anvils. His thighs were clamped either side of Anders', adding there own dried-concrete weight. My, my, Carver was _huge_ in every sense of the word. There wasn't a part of him Anders' eyes could land on without taking in swathes of muscles or deep cut-lines. Anders would have to explore those with his tongue some other time. Those and Carver's thick cock, currently so hard it looked almost painful. Anders chuckled.

"What now?" Carver snapped.

"I was just thinking what a strapping young man you've grown into."

"Oh, will you shut it?"

Carver released one of Anders' shoulders and lifted himself up onto his knees. He grabbed the base of Anders' cock and positioned it between his buttocks. Anders craned his neck up to watch as Carver sank down on it. Carver's hand was still clamped down on his shoulder, adding more pressure to the grip. Carver clenched around the head of his cock and then slowly down the length as he sank onto Anders completely. Anders tossed his head back onto the bed as he was suddenly surrounded by tightness and heat. His hips bucked of their own accord, causing a couple of startled moans from Carver. His body spasmed around Anders' cock as Carver adjusted to the movement.

"Ahh, daddy," Carver muttered. He still held Anders down but his fingers curled and hooked in Anders' own muscles. "Daddy."

Anders brought his own hands up to stroke down Carver's thighs. "You feel good, Carver," he managed. "So good. Good boy."

Carver braced himself on his arms and lifted himself up a couple of inches. Anders thrust his hips up to meet him as he came back down. Carver's whole body shuddered, racked with moans. Anders thrust again at the same angle. Carver moaned again in the same forceful way. His hands slipped on Anders' now sweat-slicked chest, giving him room to move. Anders curled his upper body, so that Carver was now in his lap. Carver wrapped his arms around Anders' shoulders just to steady himself. They were close enough that Anders could feel every single one of Carver's muscle groups pressed flat against his own. Every inch of rough, weather-beaten skin and soft pubic hair. The length of Carver's cock pressed flat against Anders' stomach, radiating heat all the way through him and trailing pre-come across him.

Anders pressed into the touch as he grabbed Carver's buttocks hard enough to leave rake-marks across each one. He spread them as wide as they would go. His breaths came in hot, loud puffs and he let Carver enjoy a few of those before he latched his mouth onto his ear.

"Go on," he ordered. "Fuck yourself on daddy's cock."

Carver said something completely incoherent. He twitched a couple of times, sliding his cock up and down along Anders' abdomen. Anders squeezed his arse again, making sure the nails bit into him. Carver bowed his head into Anders' shoulder as he moved himself up on trembling legs and back down.

"Yes," Anders said. "Good. You feel damned good on my cock Carver. Again."

Carver lifted himself up once more and back down. Anders could feel his powerful backside muscles try to clench where he held him spread. Carver's head caught in the nook of his neck. The position put his mouth close enough to Anders' ear for him to hear the breathy litany of 'yes', 'please', 'daddy', 'Maker'. Carver pulled himself back up and down without instruction this time. His cock slid up along Anders' chest and down, dragged by the motion. Pre-come seeped over Anders' skin. Anders 'mmm'ed at each slow, tentative rise Carver made and each slam back down. He could feel the tension in the base of his stomach that meant his own orgasm was building. Just a few more thrusts and-

Carver's whole body tensed. His toes curled in the sheets, his fingers dug into the notches of Anders' spine and he half-screamed into Anders' shoulder. He came with Anders buried inside him all the way to the base. Anders moaned at the feel of his warm come spreading down his chest but he was still just as hard as he'd been at the start.

"Such a bad boy," he said, grinning as Carver could only manage helpless moans in return. "Coming just from the feel of daddy inside him."

He pushed Carver, unresisting onto his back.

"Put your legs over my shoulders," Anders ordered.

Carver did so, still too muddled from orgasm to protest. Anders drove into him with all the desperation he'd been keeping under control until now. Carver's body gripped him with renewed tightness as it tried to recover. Anders bit down on his lip over grunts and moans. Carver was still half-hard and moaning in one incessant stream. _Maker_ , Anders remembered what it was like to be nineteen. Everything was so _sensitive_ , Carver could probably go again.

"Touch yourself," Anders barked. "Touch yourself while I fuck you."

Carver curled both hands around his cock and began to stroke it in time with Anders' thrusts, which became more and more frenzied at the sight. Anders aimed for the same angle that had rendered Carver totally insensible the first time. He knew he'd found it when Carver's upper body jerked up from the bed. His cock hardened fully again under the ministrations of his hands.

"Ah, there, daddy, again," he said. "Again."

Anders smiled around his own moan. Once he'd found it, it was easy to repeat the same motion again and again and again. He varied his thrusts, sometimes so shallow that he barely brushed Carver's prostate to wrench a half-angry, half-desperate moan from his lips and sometimes so hard that Carver's eyes rolled back and he could barely maintain his grip on his cock. The moan from those lasted even through the next couple of thrusts.

He relaxed into a steadier rhythm as his own stomach tightened. He watched Carver's hands stroke himself through half-lidded eyes. Moans poured from Carver's mouth. Carver's body clamped around Anders again as he brought himself off. That tightness was enough for Anders to bury himself in Carver again and come.

When Anders had finally recovered enough to open his eyes, Carver was looking up at him.

"Maker," he said. "How'd you get it to feel like that?"

Anders smiled. "I'm a healer. I know every single spot on your body." Anders pulled out of Carver slowly and moved to sit on the edge of the bed while he got his breath back.

"I didn't want to fuck my dad, you know."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. Being the Templar son of a dedicated apostate is bound to give you a few issues. There's a bath in the back and a water pump if you want to get cleaned up. There'll be some soap there too."

"And I didn't join the Templars just to spite Garrett, either."

"Then what did you join the Templars for, Carver? The opportunity to join ranks with people like Ser Karras? The power?"

"It's no use explaining myself to you."

"You're right. It's your brother and your mother you should be explaining yourself to."

"Not all the Templars are like you think they are. My brother doesn't need me beside him. He made that clear. I'm in the best place now, for both of us, whether you see it or not."

"Of course, Carver. You clearly have no latent guilt at all. Why else would you be here, covered in your "daddy's" spunk?"

"Shut up, all right! Just shut it. I know I'm the consolation prize, if not to Hawke, then to Bethany who everyone would have preferred to be the one to survive Lothering."

Anders turned back to Carver to find he'd curled back up onto his side, away from him. Anders slipped into the bed next to him and slung an arm over him. It was a gesture that felt far more intimate than the shameless fucking they'd just done.

"That's not true, Carver," Anders said. "Your family love you as much as they ever loved Bethany."

"No they don't."

Carver rolled over. He raised both defiantly dry eyes to look up at Anders and then nestled down into Anders' chest.

"Thank you for saying it though," he said.

Carver cuddled into him as he fell asleep, although he'd likely deny it when he woke up. Anders smiled fondly down at his head. He brushed a hand through Carver's hair and pulled the covers up over them both. There were always plenty of people to need healing but he could take one night off for a Hawke in need of comforting. Especially if that Hawke had a criminally nice arse.

 **The End**


End file.
